


Infamous

by Konbini



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Bottom Aziraphale, M/M, top crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:16:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27661912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Konbini/pseuds/Konbini
Summary: In which Crowley is more or less famous and well respected among the fallen, while Aziraphale is an afterthought to the other angels. Even humans wax poetical of Crowley, while Aziraphale is bereft of any human representation.Aziraphale begins to feel rather embarrassed, among other things. It takes a while for Crowley to notice.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 137





	Infamous

Crowley's profile was refined - every line elegant and chiseled - well thought out. Incandescent, in a word. Gorgeous. Not that Aziraphale had ever said that out loud. He couldn't, or well - until very recently he didn't dare.

"Why are you looking at me like that angel?" Crowley harangued, and seemed to preen a little at the attention.

"Oh-ah, was I looking at you dear?" Aziraphale feigned innocence.

"I do believe you were." Crowley said, all amusement with a playful unserious leer.

Aziraphale couldn't help but return what counted as a smile, and it held for a moment as they simply took one another in.

They were in love, Aziraphale thought. Had been thinking for a while.

And now they had ample time to express it.

It wasn't that Aziraphale hadn't noticed exactly, only he hadn't given it any serious thought.

The serpent and the apple. Eve's temptation.

Over the years they'd both been cast over with a romantic glow, with a touch of epic and loftiness. The serpent in the garden became synonymous with all demons really, the temptation itself synonymous with sin. Aziraphale hadn't really cared because it hadn't actually meant much.

It hadn't meant much because Aziraphale knew Crawly back then - chief most as one of the many fallen. They had been equals then, really. And not really equals because Aziraphale was in grace and surely that is where one should be. So, equals - but some more equal than others.

Aziraphale is hardpressed to define when those scales began to tip.

But tip they had.

It isn't like Aziraphale is a bad angel exactly. Only...a couple reprimands here and a couple reprimands there...added to the fact that he himself had not often been chosen for the more showy deeds. Or for the important miracles.

None of this has ever bothered Aziraphale. He's certainly never envied the archangels or the other various higher ups. He's a humble angel and he lives to serve.

And, maybe it's a bit frightful but he's never ever had to worry before about his own status in relation to that of a demon. When it's angels that show up in the good book, it's the important ones. When it's demons that show up in the good book....well, really, there's only three isn't there? Two by name - Aziraphale almost forgets Beezlebub at the last second - and then the unnamed. All the deeds of which are really Crowley.

As if Crowley were equal to....but he's not, Aziraphale couldn't stand it if he was. 

Aziraphale's notion of Crowley being a big player is solidified when he recounts his ordeal with Hastur.

"Told him he was ready to play with the big boys." Crowley intones smartly, not realizing or perhaps caring that he's just outed himself as one of the 'big boys'.

He continues on like nothing is wrong though and Aziraphale can't really dwell on it anyway. It's before the body switch and he hasn't time because they're going to be punished.

It comes back to him later though, when it's all finished.

Now that he's looking Crowley's beauty strikes him in art galleries, in pop culture, in the streets. Small, meticulous scales. Slitted and ostentatious pupils, divine curvature.

Of Aziraphale? of course there is nothing. He doesn't reveal himself.

He tries not to think, though, of the sculptures and paintings dedicated to his ilk and how none of them resemble him in the slightest.

"Well, angel, how about we continue the party elsewhere?" Crowley says when they've tired of the Ritz, "My place, perhaps?"

It will be the second time Aziraphale is in Crowley's apartment.

"Yes, that sounds...fine." Aziraphale manages to choke out.

He's nervous, is what he is.

And maybe it's Aziraphale's expectations that steer things wrong. He gets a little awkward, a little flushy. Standing in the foyer of Crowley's apartment he begins to wring his hands, just a little.

Crowley's sharp eyes notice of course but he pretends not to. Which Aziraphale is forever grateful for.

Aziraphale maybe thinks they are most definitely going to be making...love.

"Come in Aziraphale, relax." Crowley commands.

He tries to, he does. But he ends up inelegantly stumbling after Crowley - who is so graceful and lithe.

"Now, pet, have a seat." Crowley says as he steers him into a seat.

Pet.

It's...lovely, is what it is.

"Why thank you dear boy." Aziraphale returns.

Crowley yawns theatrically and leans back in his own chair, not even looking at Aziraphale. He seems rather distracted which is kind of disheartening. Aziraphale had expected his full attention.

"You know when I was up there," Crowley says low, like a confession, "your lot didn't give a damn about you."

The words are a shock to Aziraphale's system. He hadn't been expecting them.

"They treated you - you - like you were..." Crowley gesticulates wildly into the air, "nothing."

Aziraphale tries to gather a response.

"W-well you know, quite right, I'm not..."

But Crowley talks over him quite loudly and drunkenly.

"As if I'd be wasting my time - 6000 years of it - on some random angel that wasn't even important."

Crowley doesn't seem to know the gravity of what he's just said but Aziraphale feels it like a dagger to the heart. It makes him freeze.

And surely - they are in love, aren't they? There's no reason to doubt it only that Crowley hasn't actually said...

It strikes Aziraphale that Crowley has perhaps been labouring under a misapprehension. Aziraphale himself has. Crowley thinks Aziraphale is his opposite but equal. And Aziraphale had believed that Crowley returned his regard.

The thought that either of these things could be true make Aziraphale's head spin.

They simply can't be.

But Aziraphale - coward that he is, doesn't dare prove it.

He leaves when Crowley drops off into a drunken stupor.

They don't spend as much time together as Aziraphale had been anticipating. Crowley only turns up about every couple days. And nothing changes between them.

It's all, 'how are we today then, angel?' and 'don't got another bottle of that, do you?'

And each time nothing happens Aziraphale doubts more and more. Can't banish the thought that perhaps...perhaps Crowley never really loved him, not the way Aziraphale had been thinking. It's both a devastating thought, heart-wrenching, and a little humiliating. The redeeming aspect being, of course, that Crowley doesn't seem to know that Aziraphale is in love with him.

And if Aziraphale had been wrong about that...

Aziraphale used to think that losing Crowley's love, in a romantic sense, would be the worst. But he realizes that there's even more at stake if Crowley finds he has attached his great self to a very low angel.

Of course Aziraphale maybe doesn't believe all these thoughts half the time but they niggle at the back of his brain and create doubt.

Things can be like they were though, very good, and Aziraphale is certain he can at least get through a century without mentioning loyalties or status.

"They've asked me back already." Crowley says, a little smug.

"What?" Aziraphale says, a little confused.

"Hell, they've asked me back." Crowley looks like the cat that got the cream as he sits back and laces his hands behind his head.

"Oh I see." Aziraphale says, shocked.

"Don't look so surprised pet, you know how many commendations I've received." Something must show through in Aziraphale's face because Crowley sits up suddenly, face tense, "Don't worry, I'm not going back."

Aziraphale hadn't thought to be worried about it but he's relieved all the same when Crowley says it.

"Of course. Didn't think you would." Aziraphale says stingily.

Crowley still looks tense. Eventually, he says,

"I'm sorry angel, I wasn't thinking. If I was Gabriel I would have been knocking at your door the very next day."

The well meant reassurance is a bitter reminder that that will never happen. Crowley has achieved something which is impossible for Aziraphale. Hell values Crowley.

"Surely they must miss you." Crowley continues, which makes it worse.

Has Crowley always thought Aziraphale so valuable? Has Aziraphale really misconstrued himself so badly? It becomes apparent that Aziraphale can't continue any longer to hide the truth. Crowley can't be thinking he has something precious of Heaven's all the while Aziraphale is...

"You must be quite..." Aziraphale says dryly, quietly, "They must love you down there."

"Love, angel?" Crowley scolds, eye brows rising in offense.

"I just mean, well, you're quite up there aren't you?"

Crowley shrugs languidly, unconcerned. Until he picks up on the distress Aziraphale is putting out.

"Aziraphale?" He questions.

"I'm not, you know." Aziraphale finishes, the truth finally out.

"Not what?" Crowley asks in confusion.

Aziraphale finds it to difficult to repeat so he just shakes his head instead, as if to ward off what he knows it coming.

"Angel, darling, pet, what is it?" Crowley asks in alarm.

And it's so...horrible, to have to say it to Crowley's face like this.

"I'm not what you think I am Crowley. I'm not an angel of might. I'm...quite low on the totem pole."

The silence stretches between them like taffy and Aziraphale trips over his own tongue trying to explain himself.

"I never meant to deceive you, only how could I have known you thought I was a higher designation? That I was...worth your time..."

Aziraphale feels tears prick his eyes but manages to reign himself in.

"I-I do still hope ever so much that we can remain friends, despite this. I never meant to deceive you, it was unconsciously done." Aziraphale says quietly.

"I'm sorry," Crowley says in a tone which implies he isn't sorry at all, "but what the fuck?"

Aziraphale cringes back at that, but then Crowley's arms are crowding him, squeezing him.

"Oh pet no." Crowley says, a hand idling through Aziraphale's hair. "Really angel."

They stay like that for a minute, more or less clinging to each other while Crowley runs soothing hands over the whole of Aziraphale.

"You get strange ideas, I leave you alone too long."

"So you weren't expecting me to be..."

"Oh angel, I never expected you to be anything but yourself."

"But they like you so much down there and -"

"They're demons." Crowley scolds gently and begins to pull away, "and I'll not hear another word of this nonsense. As if I'm too good for you. I think it's rather the other way around angel."

"Oh." Aziraphale says breathlessly.

Even if he was wrong about this, it still doesn't mean that Crowley is in love with him. Aziraphale reminds himself Crowley has never said so. But then, neither has Aziraphale. And Crowley deserves to know, even if he doesn't return the sentiment.

"There's something else." Aziraphale says.

Crowley looks a strange mix of concern and resigned.

"Out with it angel."

"I love you." Aziraphale clarifies, "I'm in love with you."

"Well I knew that too." And Crowley has the gall to look bored.

"I see." Aziraphale says, and he wishes the floor would swallow him up, almost miracles himself away but Crowley might follow and it would be even more embarrassing.

Instead Aziraphale begins to step back, turns to leave. He feels heartbroken, like he can't breathe.

"Aziraphale." Crowley says sternly and pulls him back towards him. "I love you. There. I've said it. No need for the dramatics."

For a moment Aziraphale isn't sure that Crowley hasn't said it just to make him feel better.

"Then why haven't we made love?" Aziraphale asks, a little defiantly. Calling Crowley's bluff and praying that it isn't a bluff at all.

Crowley looks like he's about to lose his temper, and something else too, like maybe his mind.

His eyes narrow and he hisses softly under his breath.

"You want me to fuck you, angel," Crowley says lowly, getting right in Aziraphale's space, flicking open the top button of Aziraphale's collar, "all you needed to do was assssk."

Quite suddenly they're on Crowley's bed and not a stitch of clothes between them.

It's startling, and fast.

Aziraphale gasps when Crowley pushes apart his thighs, fingers digging into the meat.

"Going to cum all over these fat fucking thighs of yours." Crowley's voice is gravel. "That alright with you?"

Aziraphale nods dumbly.

"Say it." Crowley demands.

"Yes I - please." Azriaphale's voice quivers when he says it. "Anything you want Crowley."

"I want to be inside you." Crowley croons back, sighs happily when Aziraphale spreads his legs a little more.

"Do you want me to...change it?" Aziraphale asks shyly, of his male configuration.

"Next time." Crowley promises and then abruptly positions himself and shoves the tip of dick in.

Aziraphale gasps and moans and makes some sort of bitten off noise.

"Please." He begs and that's all the encouragement it takes to get Crowley to plough the rest of the way in.

"Fuck angel." He curses tightly, drinking in Aziraphale's expression.

"I love you." Aziraphale says weakly.

"Likewise." And then Crowley is gripping a leg and pushing it above Aziraphale's head.

He fucks in a few times, eyes closed in bliss before he opens them again. But he isn't looking at Aziraphale anymore, he's looking down at where they join. Pulls himself out almost all of the way, making Aziraphale whimper, before he sinks back in. Aziraphale's face is already scarlet but somehow it seems to get even hotter.

Crowley is...shameless.

Aziraphale finds himself embarrassed with the way Crowley watches his member disappear into Aziraphale's own self with every thrust. Like he just can't get enough of watching Aziraphale's body swallow him whole.

Aziraphale comes abruptly at the thought.

Crowley stills to watch him come undone. Crowley's eyes are on his face then.

Then Crowley pulls out, cock already spurting, and paints Aziraphale's thighs like he promised.

"I still don't understand why you didn't-"

"I was trying my damnedest not to go too fast for you!"


End file.
